


A Day Together

by satanic_panic



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: You and John attempt to have a day together... attempt.
Relationships: John Byers/Reader, John Fitzgerald Byers/Reader
Kudos: 3





	A Day Together

"Good grief, your hands are cold!" Byers exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his desk chair and toppling over, but thankfully he grabbed the edge of his desk before a disaster could happen; he looked up at you, betrayed, as you grinned and gently ran a hand through his hair. "Where have you been?" 

You shrugged, chuckling at his reaction to putting your cold hands on his neck, you had been out all day and had not been able to see him; your knuckles felt sore with the icy feel, rendering your fingers stiff and the movements of your hands slow. You still had goosebumps on your arms from being out in the minus one-degree celsius weather, shivering a little as you tugged your jacket that much closer. "Well, for a start, I had to go shopping. And walk the dog to my dad's so he could look after him. Then I had to walk here." 

Byers would never be able to admit it, but he did truly appreciate the fact that you managed to find days to fit around him, to be with him, even when he was busy typing away at his computer, his hair a mess and his shirt only half tucked in, his shoelaces undone and the ends his blazer sleeves a little bit rolled up, stacks of paper next to him just slightly stained with coffee; he smiled, blue eyes seeming to glitter as he leaned back and shifted in his seat, taking in your appearance for a moment - scruffy was the first word that came to mind, your wrecked old red trainers, cargo trousers that were frayed and torn at the bottoms where they were a bit too long, old and worn leather belt with the dull and scratched buckle, an old long-sleeved band t-shirt beneath a black dress shirt that was only half buttoned up, an old leather jacket, and to top it all off, a burgundy beanie. Scruffy might have been the word to come to mind, but Byers liked that about you. But then he frowned, feeling guilty that you had had to walk around most of the day, you would probably get sick, and it was probably his fault. "Why didn't you stay at home? We could've seen each other another-" 

"John." You cut him off with a fond grumble, shaking your head. "I wanted to see you. I don't care if it's cold as all fuck out there, I wanted to see you." 

Still, he felt bad for it, and the feeling only grew worse when you tugged your jacket off with a groan and a shiver, dumping it on Langly's chair; thinking a little on his feet, Byers rose out of his chair and caught you just as you were about to return to him, his hands on your arms, his grip soft as he dared to smile, uneasy and a little bit nervous. "Why don't you go back to your place and shower and warm up, and I'll meet you there? Or… or I could drive you." 

You had to think about it for a moment, with Frohike out and about and Langly off with his boyfriend, John did have the van, and the van was definitely warm - although it did smell a bit funky thanks to Langly lighting up a bong and a joint every now and then - and it did give you an excuse to be with your boyfriend; so you nodded, grabbing your jacket again but choosing to drape it over your arm. "Alright, you can drive me." 

A little bit nervous despite almost an entire year of being together, Byers gently planted a kiss to your cheek before leading you out to the van; he made sure that you had your seatbelt on before he even considered doing his own. "Do you want me to turn the hot air on? Or is it alright?" 

He worried so much, and it made you smile as you laid your hand on his thigh, leaning over a little to kiss him quickly and softly. "It's fine. It's only a short ride, babe." 

Turning the key, Byers cleared his throat, his hands firm on the steering wheel as he put the van into gear and started to drive, but then he caught something playing on the radio - a CD, but he wasn't sure whose it was - that made him look over at you with a pink haze on his features. 

"Sweat baby sweat baby sex is a Texas drought, me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about, so put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts," the song started, one you recognised easily and quickly, and as Byers kept his gaze on the road, you turned the knob on the radio to turn it up, singing along loudly with the crude and dirty lyrics. But Byers said nothing, biting at the inside of his lip; he could tell that you liked the song, and for him, that was enough of a reason to keep it up and to keep it loud. 

"You and me, baby, ain't nothing but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery channel!" Your singing was far from as good as the likes of Corey Taylor or Sam Cooke, but the passion was certainly there, and when you looked Byers right in the eyes as you said it, the van coming to a halt at a red light, he swallowed thickly. 

"Is… is that what you wanna do today?" He asked softly, nervously; sure, you had definitely done more than kiss and cuddle before, but it still never failed to render him so excited that he got nervous - he worried he wasn't good enough in that situation, but if you were asked about it, he was the best you had ever had. 

"If you want," you mused, your hand going up his thigh just that little bit more. "But if you don't, then that's fine - there's a few films I thought we could watch, too. It's entirely up to you, John… I'm just glad I get to spend the day with you, either way." 

Relaxing a little, Byers nodded, laying his hand on yours gave him an extra bit of reassurance as the hand he used to drive settled atop the steering wheel; it wasn't long before he pulled into the carpark of your block of flats, nor was it long before he was with you on the lift, slow and cautious as he kissed your neck so softly. No one was around to see. No one could see how he blushed when you gripped his hair and encouraged him. He had never been so bold before, but he was enjoying it, and even felt disappointed when the lift doors opened and he had to pull away. A few steps, a door quick to unlock but stiff and catching on the floor, slammed shut, Byers' hand holding yours tightly until you kissed him; this time it was different, this time he was a little less cautious, his arms hooked around your neck as he shared short and sweet kisses with you.

"I'll go and shower," you murmured between kisses at the door, thankful to be inside your own flat, "you wanna make yourself at home?" 

Byers nodded, reluctant to pull away but eventually doing so, and when you went into the bathroom with a pair of folded up grey jogging bottoms and an old red hoodie, he took a seat on the sofa; a stack of papers sat on the coffee table, unfinished assignments by the look of them, worksheets filled with questions that had yet to be answered, a pair of headphones and a music player sat beside the stack, clearly having been used recently. The ashtray that sat in the middle of the coffee table was half-full, a nearly empty packet of Sterling cigarettes sat to its left, and even though he knew he shouldn't have, Byers picked the ashtray up, and emptied it in the bin before returning to his seat on the sofa; he waited patiently for you, and when you walked out of the bathroom, he immediately noticed that you had nothing beneath your jogging bottoms, and he shifted in his seat slightly, swallowing thickly as his eyes went wide. Fuck. You were handsome. 

"I, uh, I emptied your ashtray," was all he could say, silently cursing himself for being so stupid, for not telling you how good you looked even though you weren't even trying, how much he loved you being his boyfriend even at the worst of times. 

But you only nodded, smiling and collapsing onto the sofa, your legs dangling over the far arm as you laid your head in his lap and sighed heavily, contently. "Y'know, my back has been killing me for ages… always hunched over that fucking laptop…" you scoffed, looking up at him and nearly grinning. "But now you're here and everything seems fine." 

Byers' expression softened as he dared to smile back, gently tracing your jaw with a soft, tender, sweet touch; he loved you more than he had words to say, and his only hope was that you loved him just the same and that, one day, he could run away to the suburbs with you to pursue that white picket fence life. "I remember when we first met, y'know…" 

You chuckled, shaking your head, the most amazing of sounds, Byers would always admit to it, reaching for his hand and bringing his knuckles to your lips as you hummed softly. "You mean the night we attended that party?" 

"Yeah," Byers whispered, a certain fondness to his voice that made you shiver. 

It had been a night in the summer, hot and sweltering, and your friend had had the most pleasant idea of throwing a house party; heavy metal was playing over the speakers, the living room stank of weed and mixed with the smell of alcohol from the kitchen, creating a sickly smell in the hallway that joined the two. Your friend was doing bong hits with Langly while Frohike was chatting loudly and laughing with some of the guests in the kitchen, and in order to get a little break, you had escaped to your friend's room… only for Byers to disrupt when he sought sanctuary from the chaos downstairs, too; he looked so out of place with his suit and his neat hair and finely trimmed beard, he looked so out of place with his eyes wide and an anxious look on his face like that of a puppy dog left home alone for the first time. And then there was you, ripped black jeans, pale grey Vans that were just a little bit dirty, an old black band t-shirt that had the sleeves ripped off, and a cut-up red denim vest, spiked bracelets on your wrist, cigarette hanging out of your mouth, bottle of beer in your hand. You definitely belonged there. And Byers… didn't. But then you got to talking, and found that something, whatever it was, just clicked; he spent a whole two years working up the nerve to ask you out, but he was glad he did. 

"Remember when Langly walked in?" You asked with a soft howl of laughter. 

Byers was a little bit bashful as he nodded. "He thought we were…"

"He thought we were fucking, John," you barked. "Swear down, I thought he was going to give you a medal or something." 

Byers rolled his eyes fondly, but when you groaned and grunted, your back aching, his good mood immediately fell away, the smile that was once on his face running away as he started to panic, to worry. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," you growled through the aches. "It's just my back, 's all." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked quietly, blue eyes filled with guilt and melancholy. 

You groaned again, hissing lowly as you dared to sit up for a moment. "You ever given a massage?" 

Shrugging, Byers didn't exactly look like he knew what he was about to get himself into. "Not really…but I can try." 

You waited for him to stand up, loosening his tie and shrugging his blazer off while you laid on your stomach, your chin propped up on your arms; when Byers straddled your waist, you let out a soft grumble. 

As his hands slipped up under your shirt, you let out a soft sigh, immediately relaxing; and when he began to knead and rub your back, you could have sworn that you audibly moaned - he was getting all the right places without even trying, and your aches were fading with each touch. 

"Oh, fuck, John, right there!" You exclaimed when his hands graced over the last achy spot on your back. "Fuck! Keep going!" 

But then the door opened, an unwanted guest poked his head around the corner. 

"Hey, (y/n), do you mind if I borrow- oh! Oh my god!" Fox, your neighbour, quickly turned away, covering his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" 

Byers nearly fell off of the sofa, thankfully catching himself before he could, his heart was going thirty miles an hour… until he realised who the unexpected guest was. "Mulder?" 

"Byers?" Fox was cautious as he turned back around, looking his friend in the eye, his jaw falling agape. "(y/n), is Byers the boyfriend you told me so much about?" 

You shrugged, letting John get off of you before you dared to stand up and stretch. "Yes, and before you make a comment, he was giving me a massage because of my back." 

Fox raised a brow. "I did tell you to sit at your computer without hunching over." 

You rolled your eyes, searching for John's hand until you could hold it tightly. Calm washed over you immediately. "More importantly, how do you two know each other?"

"We, uh," Byers cleared his throat and uneasily smiled. "We're friends, and sometimes, we work together." 

"I just came over to ask if I could borrow some orange juice," Fox said, feeling a little awkward, now, as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"It's in the fridge." You sighed. It sure was going to be fun, knowing that every time Byers stayed the night, that Fox would know exactly which John you were calling out for. 

Grabbing the carton of juice from the fridge, Fox paused. "Hey, uh, by the way?" He unscrewed the cap on the carton and took a swig. "I won't tell the guys about how you like to be called Daddy if you don't tell them I live next door." 

"Deal." Byers nodded, clenching his jaw and giving your hand a quick squeeze. 

You squeezed his hand back twice, turning around to bury your head against his chest as you started to laugh. "For fuck's sake." 


End file.
